


The Ghost of the Foundry

by PhantomWriter



Series: It's a weird start (but we'll be fine) [17]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Barry is a ghost, M/M, Possession, ghost au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 18:59:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14721774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomWriter/pseuds/PhantomWriter
Summary: The night Oliver comes back from Lian Yu, he meets a ghost named Barry Allen.(where the more apt title is The Ghost that follows Oliver Queen)





	The Ghost of the Foundry

**Author's Note:**

> so um, in this AU, the particle acceleration explosion happened closely to Oliver's return from Lian Yu
> 
> unbeta-ed as usual :)

By all accounts, it should be Oliver Queen who is in the position of this person in front of him.

 

This man—err, ghost, or whatever they call him.

 

The ghost told him that his name is Barry. Barry Allen. He lives in Central City, just not in the Central City General Hospital before the particle accelerator explosion that caused him his life due to being struck by lightning. The explosion happened the night before—the same moment Oliver was phoning his mother directly from China and told her he was on the way home after being in Lian Yu for five years and thought to be dead. Upon Oliver’s arrival at Central City General Hospital to see the family physician, he stumbled upon the ghost of Barry Allen after Oliver refused to see the breaking news of his apparent resurrection vying for screen time by cutting the news broadcast of the said particle accelerator explosion. Oliver wandered a little in the hospital then, wanting to clear his mind under the pretense of looking for a vending machine. Moira didn’t even want him to go alone after finding out that most of his body is made up of scars.

 

It goes like this:

 

On the fourth floor hallway, there’s this miserable-looking man who’s glowing in a bluish light and _transparent_.

 

Normally, Oliver would dismiss it as a trick of the eye, kind of like when he was shit-faced drunk or trippy with some powder passed around in the parties before in his old life, but five years away and a recent encounter with Baron Reiter and John Constantine broadens your mind to the supernatural.

 

Miserable-looking ghosts must be at the bottom list of the hostile entities.   

 

“Oliver Queen?” was the ghost’s first sentence when he noticed Oliver staring at him and not _through_ him. The ghost blinked before gasping in realization. “Are you like the ferryman of the afterlife?” he asked. “I kinda expected it’ll be Saint Peter who greets you in the afterlife, but I’m not a Christian. I thought it’s like depends-on-your-religion thing; then again where will the atheists be left? Not that I am one. I’m actually agnostic.” He regards Oliver carefully. “Makes sense that they send a dead billionaire after people like me.”

“I’m not dead yet,” Oliver replied after it took him a few moments to realize that the ghost was talking to him. He gets a look that says _the others don’t think so_ , and so Oliver amends, “I returned only earlier tonight.”

“Wow. You’re actually alive all these years?” If Oliver can call it living, sure. “That’s nice. Iris must be ecstatic.” The ghost smiles ruefully. “Which my death no doubt ruined for her.” He sniffed, brushing hastily his eyes with his sleeves. He smiles sheepishly at Oliver. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be crying over your good news.”

Everybody from his family seem to think it is, but Oliver could guess some who would have preferred it if he stayed dead. That certain list of people will surely grow once he begins his promise to his late father. “How long? How long have you been dead?”

“As early as last night, I think,” the ghost said. “It’s as if I woke up, wandering the hallways aimlessly. I didn’t notice what was wrong at first until somebody passed through me, and I can pass through the walls. Nobody could even—” He stops, eyes widening in realization when he looks up at Oliver. “You can see and hear me. You can help me.”

Oliver doesn’t really want to ruin the surge of hope the ghost has. “Help you on what exactly? Revenge for your death?”

The ghost shook his head fervently. “No, I wasn’t murdered or anything, I’m sure of it. It was the lightning. It hit me last night during the particle accelerator explosion. That was my last waking memory. And, I don’t know, maybe you can tell my family? My father, he—I have a foster father, I can give you his number. Or my foster sister, Iris. She—”

“And tell them what?” Oliver interrupted. He couldn’t afford to give false hopes. “Tell them that your spirit is now haunting the hospital where you died?” The ghost turns away in anguish. Oliver is being harsh, but he’s making a point. “Will it not be fairer for them to just let them think that you passed away, that the one they will bury still has you, the soul, intact? Would you rather they find out that what they have is a mere shell of their loved one?”

Oliver knows the feeling of wanting to reach out to his family and Tommy. It was terrible, but it was either that or put their lives in jeopardy.

“You don’t understand,” the ghost croaked in reply.

Oliver doesn’t get the chance to speak back when Moira calls him, wondering what took him long. He gives the smooth lie of wanting to find a working vending machine. Truly, he’s the only one who can see the ghost.

 

When Oliver looks back to where the ghost is, he’s unsurprised to find nobody there.

 

 

 

It isn’t until later, once Oliver is at the back seat of the car and waiting for his mother, when the ghost appears beside him.

The ghost meets Oliver’s curious gaze shyly. “I’m sorry about being rude earlier when I suddenly vanished. I’m new to this being ghost thing.”

“It’s not a common occurrence to anybody,” Oliver said in response. He had been a bit severe too. “You followed me?”

“Yeah. I hope you don’t mind. It’s just that you’re the only person I can interact with. I’ll be lonely floating around the hospital, waiting for somebody like you. Preferably one with more facial expression than you.” Oliver arches an eyebrow at the last bit. “So here I am.”

“How about your family? You can watch them over as a… as you are now.”

“Then see how I made them sad?” The ghost shakes his head. “I’ll pass. Maybe someday, when my family and I both accepted my death. For now, you’ll have to bear with me. If you don’t mind, that is.”

For a ghost, he’s awfully polite, Oliver thinks. “What’s your name?”

The ghost catches himself offering a handshake. He opens his palm instead, grinning. “Barry. Barry Allen.”

* * *

Barry is always lurking around the old QC Warehouse transformed into a headquarters of sorts for the hooded vigilante. He never accompanies Oliver on the field though, never there.

 

He’s curious, but he never asked. Barry is perceptive than given credit for though, and he tells Oliver himself why—while he’s not into the vigilante killing, he also acknowledges the purpose behind it. It’s a gray kind of thinking that Oliver doesn’t expect to come from Barry of all people.

 

It’s like having an unofficial non-living teammate. Barry was a CSI, and he often gives Oliver tips on how to avoid the SCPD who treats The Hood as just as any regular criminal out there. When Oliver idly comments whether it’s not against what a CSI stands for, Barry merely shrugs.

 

It took some time, but Oliver has gotten used to another presence with him—got too used that he sometimes forget that he’s the only one who can see and hear Barry. It wasn’t until the first (unnecessary) bodyguard hired by Moira for him gave Oliver a disbelieving look after he heard him talking to thin air.

 

Oliver might have gotten a reputation for being unhinged. Not that it’s totally unexpected of him (after his experience that even his mother doesn’t know; she can only imagine the worst), and nor is it discourage by him. Oliver weekly changes his bodyguard, and his new reputation often helps. The downside is there are also suggestions of at least a trip to a shrink which Oliver always refuses.

 

Of course there are also times where he doubts his own sanity. It stops when Raisa begins to suspect that there’s a spirit of the dead in the mansion. She has never seen it, she said, but she can feel a presence. Oliver suddenly remembers growing up to her ghost stories during rainy nights. He used to believe her until he hit puberty. Now, he thinks there’s some truth in her extra sense, or whatever she calls it.

 

Barry gets an entertainment out of it by occasionally looming behind Raisa when she’s at the kitchen, leading her to believe it’s where the spirit lives. Raisa is a Christian, and once, Oliver catches her doing a sign of the cross, muttering _dios mío_ or something along the lines.

 

 

 

 

“You should recruit Mr. Diggle,” Barry suggested one day on Oliver’s third replacement of bodyguard for the week. Diggle is the very first to last for more than two days, and Barry is amazed.

“I don’t know anything about him.” Because saying he doesn’t need a team sounds conceited.

“Not that it ever hindered you,” Barry said reasonably. “I followed him once. He’s a pretty nice fella. He lives alone, gets his dinner at Big Belly Burger. He takes care of his nephew and—”

“That doesn’t mean he couldn’t be leading a double life.”

“I know.” Barry sighs. “What I mean is, you need to form a team, or at least get a teammate.” He raises his hands before Oliver can interrupt. “Look, I know you’re effective alone, but eventually, you won’t manage everything by yourself, and you’ll need help.” Oliver wants to point out that he’s not really alone since Barry is just like another teammate to him. “You need somebody to look out for you, you know? Somebody who can touch you, Ollie.”  

Oliver is strongly reminded then that Barry is actually a ghost. It tends to slip from Oliver from time to time. “I don’t want to risk anybody else’s life for my cause. I chose this for myself and for nobody else.” It’s why he puts on the hood in the first place.

Barry gives him a wan smile. “Think about it, yeah?” he said before he disappears through a wall.

 

Oliver does think about it.

* * *

Diggle refuses. At first.

 

Admittedly, he might have used subtle manipulation, but the end justifies the means, so they say. And it’s worth it when Barry gives him an approving thumbs up—not that Oliver is seeking approval in the first place. Though he may be subconsciously crav—no.

 

Having Diggle to pose as The Hood is very efficient and convenient when Detective Lance puts him on house arrest. He might have overdone his speech, with Tommy finding it amusing, but Oliver knows that if Barry is around to hear him, he would shake his head and think Oliver is taunting the SCPD.

 

Point is, Barry is proven right that Oliver needs a team of people he can trust. Diggle is an honest man. A good man, which is pretty rare these days. Oliver learns to trust him with his life, and Diggle has proven on more than one occasion that he’s somebody reliable.

 

Oliver decides to share him a secret.

 

When he puts it that way, it sounds terrible.

 

“Who’s Barry again?” Diggle asked, crossing his arms as he listens to Oliver. He has this bodyguard stance, but he can tell Diggle is very confused.

“He’s the ghost who’s living with me,” Oliver simply says, because that’s pretty much about it.

Diggle blinks, exhales, and stares at Oliver hard.

“I might as well get this out of the way. Barry is like an investigative consultant of the vigilante,” Oliver continued.

“He talks to you?” Diggle asked, surprisingly even, but Oliver has always have this high expectations from him.

“Yes. We talk to each other. He’s the one who suggested I form a team.”

Diggle is silent for a moment. “Is he here?”

Oliver looks over behind the computer table and finds Barry there. “Yes.”

“I’m glad you told me.” Diggle actually looks grateful and partially relieved that Oliver doesn’t bother pointing where Barry currently is. “Take some rest,” he said before giving Oliver a pat on the shoulder as he leaves, conflicted.

Oliver realizes that Diggle doesn’t believe him, probably trying with all his might to not let the prejudice on Oliver cloud his impression of him. Barry comes over, sniggering, when he’s supposed to be the one offended since Diggle doesn’t believe on his presence. It has to be somewhat insulting.

But what is he saying? It’s Barry, and he’s proven that he’s not a typical ghost.

 

In respect to Diggle (and Oliver’s future teammates), Oliver and Barry reach an agreement that they won’t interact whenever another person is around.

* * *

During Oliver and Diggle's spar, Barry doesn’t remain idle.

 

He tells Oliver of practicing his skill. Oliver is clueless as to what this skill Barry is pertaining to, and so Barry demonstrates.

 

Barry focuses for a second and touches a small, cheap plastic vase multiple times. Oliver is only watching him absently, his eyes skimming the vigilante’s list as he leaves Barry and his ghostly hand to pass through the centerpiece.

 

That is until Barry tips it over and spills the inorganic contents of the vase.

 

Oliver doesn’t openly display fascination, but he knows his eyes widened a fraction.

Barry grins at him apologetically at the mess.

 

 

 

 

Barry can only do it if he gets lucky, apparently.

Or if he’s in a really dire need to.

Like for example, when Oliver, dressed as the vigilante, got shot by his mother on his shoulder after he confronted her with an evidence from Diggle that she’s connected to the group the vigilante is after.

Oliver is forced to retreat from the QC building, bleeding profusely as he goes to the parking lot. Barry somehow managed to support him along the way. Oliver kind of expected that a ghost's touch will be deathly cold. It isn’t. He doesn’t know how to explain what it feels, only that he registers Barry’s presence beside him, trying hard to assist him in reaching the car of one of QC's IT expert. He trusts her enough to expose his secret to her. Besides, it’s not like she hasn’t gotten ideas yet with those favors he had asked of her in regards to tech-related items.

Barry doesn’t protest at the split-second decision, both because of Oliver’s immediate need of medical assistance and Barry’s liking to Felicity and her adorable blabbering. Oliver suspects that she’s exactly Barry’s type.

 

Suffice to say, she’s shock when she finds a bleeding Oliver Queen at the backseat.

Oliver is rapidly losing blood, but he still managed to give her the directions to the hideout.

The last thing he sees before passing out is Barry’s face filled with worry, along with the feeling of a weight on his hand.

It’s as if Barry’s form shines brighter then, and Oliver wonders if it’s because he’s at the brink of death that’s why he can make out Barry's features more clearly.

 

“Please don’t die on me, Ollie.”

 

 

 

 

It’s outside Barry’s current capability, but when he sees the helplessness of the situation—with both Diggle and Felicity not knowing a thing about basic surgery, and where hospital is out of the options for the vigilante—he does the impossible.

 

He possesses Felicity and operates on Oliver.

 

 

 

 

Later when Oliver asks Felicity what happened, she’ll say that she has no clue after she brought him to the hideout.

Sparing one glance at Barry, his reaction seems to say it all.

 

 

 

 

“You can do that? Possession?”

Barry shrugs as if it’s not really a huge deal. “I didn’t know too. If you recall, I’m only practicing how to touch objects.”

Oliver supposes that was akin to adrenaline to the living. “Thank you.”

Barry smiles warmly, though Oliver can see a twinge of dismay there (over what, he doesn’t know). “It’s your team who saved you.”

Oliver wants to point out that Barry is part of that team too, but the ghost has already vanished before he could put in a word.

* * *

It’s hard to corner a ghost, Oliver finds out.

But he’s quite determined after Barry began avoiding him since their last conversation. There was a momentary dread when he thought Barry’s spirit has already moved on to heaven—or wherever souls go when they’re not trapped with the living—without Oliver knowing. His fears were unfounded after he catches a glimpse of bluish-light near Felicity’s workstation.

 

“Barry,” Oliver calls out one day when both Diggle and Felicity are not around.

Barry turns slowly then, as if he’s debating whether to pretend he didn’t hear Oliver. “Hey, Ollie.”

“I don’t see you around here these days,” is what Oliver means to say, but he thinks that sounds like he’s always looking for Barry. So instead he says, “Where have you been?”

“Here, there.” Barry shrugs. “I may have checked on my family once or twice at Central.”

“Your foster family?”

“My biological dad, actually.” Oliver waits for him to continue. “He, uh, he’s in Iron Heights. He… He cries himself to sleep,” Barry adds in a whisper. “He had seen my mom died in front of him, went to jail for it even if he’s innocent, so I can only imagine what he’s going through since finding out that I died as well.” He blinks several times, and Oliver takes it as the cue to look away. “I thought I already accepted that I’m already _this_. This useless ghost that’s following you around, but it turns out that I haven’t made peace with my situation yet. And you know what frustrates me the most? It’s when I thought that you’re going to die, and I was there who couldn’t do a thing to save you.”

“But you did,” Oliver insists half-heartedly because he knows where Barry is coming from.

“What if I didn’t? What if I didn’t manage to do that? You’re going to be the second person I get to see die. I know I supported the vigilante, but it never occurred to me that you could be in a life or death situation too.” Barry sucks in a deep breath. “I don’t want you to die, Ollie.”

Oliver can’t promise that he won’t die as his alter ego, but he says anyway, “I’ll try not to.” And Oliver means every word of it, staring straight at Barry’s eyes.

It’s enough for Barry, it seems, that his face breaks into a sincere smile. “I’ll be lonely without somebody to talk to.”

“I can say the same.”

“Yeah?” Amused, Barry grins at him with that look of _what do you call your team then_. He watches Oliver before his face morphs into thoughtfulness, his smile wan. “Someday, I’ll vanish.”

Oliver knows that. He might forget sometimes that Barry is an apparition, but it never escapes Oliver that one day, Barry will be gone. Living or not, people tend to leave our lives one way or another.

“If I did,” Barry continues. “Will you visit my grave?”

“Yes,” Oliver says even if he’s trying not to dwell on it so much.

 

 

 

 

The atmosphere between them clears after their small talk—which turns out that Felicity was listening one-sidedly at the last few parts. She had forgotten an item at her table and went to retrieve it and stopped upon hearing Oliver talking to himself. It made her worried, but she went to Diggle first to confirm if it was a regular thing. Diggle was weary when he was asked, inquiring in return if Oliver has already told her of ‘Barry’.

“Who?”

“Oliver told me he’s his friend ghost.”

“Oh. Like a ghost person in-league with him or an actual ghost _ghost_?”

Diggle looks hesitant briefly. “I used to think that he’s just exhausted when he told me, but, no, I think he meant in truthfully.”

“Or he’s just pulling your leg.” She stops to think on that one. “Okay, that’s not gonna happen.” Because Oliver is not the one for cracking jokes and pulling legs around. She gasps and stares at Diggle like he grew another head. “Then it’s true? Does he need to do séance or something to speak with him?”

“As far as I can tell, no. Barry is usually around the corners, he said.”

Felicity gulps visibly, mouthing in terror: “Is he here?”

Diggle sighs. “Look, I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s all in Oliver’s head, and frankly, I don’t want to know. In general, he’s handling himself and us quite well. Nobody is perfect.”

“Doesn’t he need a specialist to see to him about that?”

“We’ll put that on the table when it becomes problematic. For now, I think we should leave him be.”

Once Diggle leaves and Felicity is left alone, she finds herself unable to relax and wary of all the little noises she can’t explain. When her pen inexplicably rolls down to the floor and makes a loud thud against the floor that echoes at the almost empty hideout, she yelps on her way out.

Felicity never lets herself be the last to leave the hideout since then.

* * *

Just when Oliver thinks he’s getting at least a semblance of himself before Lian Yu, the part of him that he builds up through teamwork, reconnecting with Laurel, Tommy, and Thea, and this—whatever it is he has with Barry; friendship, maybe, friendship with a ghost—gets rudely taken away from him.

His best friend died in front of him.

Tommy. Tommy who was like his brother from another mother. Tommy who was there for the people Oliver loves when he couldn’t be there for them. Tommy who still love him for what he is. Tommy who forgives him after all that has happened, and those being Tommy’s last words. For him.

Oliver barely registers the hand that covers his trembling ones on Tommy’s.

“I’ll… I’ll take care of him, Ollie,” Barry said softly, his voice the most comforting that it isolates Oliver among the noise of ruins and the grief clouding his senses.

Oliver doesn’t know if he responded with a nod, but when he feels Barry’s presence vanishing beside him, Oliver feels as if the cold sweeps over him.

 

 

 

 

When Tommy feels himself leaving his body, he may have gotten a pretty good idea what this means. He sees the vigilante— _Oliver_ , cradling his lifeless body, and that’s it for Tommy.

At least, he’s leaving without regrets.

“You did well, Tommy. Oliver is proud of you,” says a kind voice not far from him. “It’s time to go.”

Tommy easily takes the offered hand at him without knowing who this person is, because it feels like the right thing to do. He doesn’t look back to Oliver when he agrees, “It’s my time.”

It sounds like the most accurate thing he ever said.

 

 

 

 

“Oliver,” Barry called him.

“Why can’t I see him? If he…” Oliver swallows. “If he’s dead, why can’t I see his spirit?”

“He already passed on, Ollie,” Barry said simply. “He has moved on to where he’s supposed to go.”

Oliver can’t beat what is final.

* * *

Oliver could act on this penance of his for as long as he wants to, but the thing is, he’s only pushing those around him away.

“Stop that, please,” Barry asked of him one night at Oliver’s stay at the island. “Stop this, Oliver.”

Oliver doesn’t because what is it to Barry anyway? He doesn’t realize he said it aloud until Barry reaches gingerly to touch his face.

“The people you love doesn’t want you to punish yourself,” Barry said firmly as Oliver feels a flitting sensation pass across his cheek. “I don’t want to see you punish yourself.”

“This is all I have for myself.”

“Not all, you dummy,” Barry murmured, getting closer to Oliver’s space to give what sort to be an embrace. “It’s alright to be sad sometimes, Ollie.”

Oliver lets Barry to hover around him because Barry feels warm for someone who is a spirit.

Instead he absently raises his hand and lays it to where Barry’s back should be.

 

He properly grieves for Tommy and the city he failed.

* * *

When Oliver is injected with an unknown toxin, Oliver feels an incoming déjà vu. When his clouding vision lands on Barry before he succumbs to unconsciousness, Oliver gives a small smile in reassurance that he won’t die.

Oliver thinks he sees Barry clearer this time.

His eyes are green, it seems.

 

 

 

Felicity is starting to panic at the familiar sight of Oliver Queen lying passed out at the table.

Her mind is running several consecutive _ohmygod_ in varying proportions of stress. It’s just like when the vigilante was in the same position but with a bullet instead of an unknown toxin in his system.

This is looking worse each passing second.

God, anybody, somebody—

Felicity sits up as if jolted from her seat. “Oh my god. Barry!”

Diggle looks at her in confusion as he strips Oliver of his suit. “What?”

“I think Barry can help us.”

“Felicity,” Diggle started. He appears to be on the verge of something, but he told her, “You operated on Oliver last time. Think you can do something to the toxin?”

“No, because that’s not even me last time,” Felicity insisted. “I don’t even remember operating on him!”

“What?”

“I don’t know what happened that time! It’s as if I blacked out the whole duration of it, and next thing I know, Oliver is already patched up.”

“Felicity, that’s—”

“No, hear me out. I might be reaching, but maybe that wasn’t me. Maybe I’ve been possessed by Barry—”

“No, Felicity. That’s all you. Barry is Oliver’s—I don’t know, an imaginary friend? Oliver must have made him to cope with his trauma.”

“Does Oliver looks like somebody who makes up imaginary friends?”

“That’s exactly it! We don’t know him enough to know, but if we don’t act now, we never will!”

Oliver convulses on the table, and Felicity can barely look at him. She turns around to look away, burying her head in her palms. “Please, _please_ , Barry. If you can hear me, you have my permission to possess me, so just—”

Felicity drops unconscious.

 

 

 

 

When Oliver wakes up, he very nearly strangles Felicity to death out of instinct.

She slumps ungracefully at her computer chair, very unladylike, after gasping for breath. Oliver is still disoriented himself to give an apology.

“Okay,” she wheezed. “That’s not the kind of gratitude I was expecting.” She feels for her neck, wincing.

Oliver feels like wincing too, because he just assaulted Felicity; out of instinct or not, it’s bad. His throat feels dry, and he can only estimate for how long he’s out.   

“You’re out for at least a day. I have to let the rat poison do its wonders.”

Good thing Oliver knows better than thinking Felicity is secretly trying to poison him. “What for?” he asked, his voice raspy.

“Blood thinner.” Felicity shrugs, fixing Oliver a cup of water. “Here.”

She cautiously helps Oliver to sit up. Oliver’s body aches like hell, but he maintains his sitting position to whisk himself out of dizziness. He catches the look Felicity is giving him: immense relief and something like fondness without her usual wariness of him. Oliver thinks that it’s a very familiar expression that he has seen often, but never on her. A quick look around the Foundry and not finding any spirit standing nearby makes Oliver’s attention snap to Felicity in a sudden realization.

“Barry?”

She grins. “I thought you won’t notice.”

“This is… This is the possession you did like last time?”

“Yes. Well, to be honest, I was having qualms to do this for the second time. When I did it before, it feels unfair to Felicity. Very intrusive. But she asked me to use her body, err, I mean, possess it.” Her cheeks colored slightly. “To save you.”

“She can see you?”

Barry shakes his head. “No, but she hears from Diggle what you told him about me. She’s convinced  I’m not somebody you made up.”

“That’s… Thank you, again.”

“If you can’t help being in the brink of death, then I might as well just save you from it.”

 

 

 

 

Once Barry is out of Felicity, he takes a step back and falters.

He’s a ghost, but he feels some sort of drowsiness that he didn’t experience the first time.

Barry pays it no mind.

 

 

 

 

He might be imagining it, but Barry thinks he’s getting more transparent.

Normally, he appears more solid to his own eyes, but recently, even he could see through his own form.

It started at his own hands, and it seems as if each day, it creeps upwards and spreads gradually.

Barry gets a funny feeling whenever he thinks it isn’t a good sign.

So he pretends that he doesn’t notice, and if Oliver does, Barry can pretend too that it’s probably a ghost thingy that he’s not aware of.

_But, God, please don’t let it mean that I’m vanishing._

 

 

 

 

Barry thinks he’s starting to slowly vanish.

He concludes that it must be because of his practice of touching objects and possessing a living body that somehow impacted the limited energy of the soul—he’s not an expert in regards to his situation, but as somebody who’s experiencing it first hand, he thinks his actions as a ghost might be what cause this.  

And he should tell Oliver; now, when he’s still visible to him. Barry musters enough courage to confess, but what he told him is: “You should get a mask.”

Oliver raises an eyebrow at the suggestion.

“I can’t believe I’m only saying this now, but yes, the mask will hide your face better than the grease.”

“Right.”

“Also, it’ll give you the chance to be called something else rather than The Hood or Vigilante. How about Arrow?”

If Oliver is any lesser, he’s sure to snort. “If that’s because of my choice of weapon, there could be two or three people running around who can claim the same name.”

“You have a point.” Barry remembers the copycat incident. “How about _Green_ Arrow?”

Oliver isn’t happy at that cheeky suggestion.

* * *

There’s a gala where there are hardly any guests. It was expected of the public since Moira’s reputation as an accomplice of Malcom Merlyn got out. And while it’s admiring to run as the mayor of Starling City despite it all, her role at the Undertaking isn’t easily forgotten, coerced by Malcolm or not.

To Oliver, though, the people here are those who matter the most.

“Having fun?” Barry asked, sliding beside Oliver at the balcony.

“No, no really,” Oliver replied truthfully.

“Hey, you don’t need at lot of guests to know she’s supported by a handful,” Barry pointed out.

“It can also mean that the others not here are all against her. Some more dangerous than others.”

“Good thing she has you as her son, hmm?”

“Which doesn’t make it any less dangerous for her. Imagine if they find out I’m the Green Arrow.”

“I know. You’re not to reveal your identity, of course.” Barry smiles, amused. “I’m saying that you’re there to protect her and your family. Like a guardian angel.”

Oliver wants to say that a former murdering vigilante makes a poor guardian angel. He might have changed his ways, but he’s no hero. He’s never that.

Barry looks as if he can read what Oliver is thinking, and it might be a perk of being a ghost. Oliver will never know.

What he knows is that Barry’s hand brushed against his. Oliver doesn’t move his hand from his side, but when he feels the brush again, he lets it linger.

“You sell yourself short, Ollie. You’re a hero to me.” Barry twines his ghostly fingers to Oliver’s solid ones.

If there’s a guardian angel here, it’s Barry. And he’s Oliver’s.

And something pure and unwaveringly compassionate like that makes an inspiring hero.

Oliver twists his fingers back against Barry’s.

 

 

 

 

Standing beside Oliver like this, Barry thinks there’s a much simpler explanation as to why he’s starting to vanish.

Earlier, he visited Iris and follows her from work to Jitters for a date with her boyfriend, Eddie, the last person Barry expected she would date. She’s happy, and Barry could ask for nothing more.

His next stop was Joe. He’s getting more buried with his work, but at least he’s no longer dwelling on Barry’s death. Joe met the DA, Cecile Horton, and Barry thought he saw a twinkle of affection in Joe’s eyes that wasn’t unreturned. His foster father will be fine.

Lastly, Barry visited his father again. He doesn’t know if he still cries in his sleep, but Barry saw him working on the clinic of Iron Heights. He wasn’t distracted by anything when he patched up an inmate's long laceration. He’ll be the one who will take long to move on, but Barry is confident that he’ll be alright.

Barry is finally doing his own moving on too, accepting his own death after more than a year and a half.

Funny that it happens exactly when he thinks he’s feeling something more for Oliver.

What a rude way to say that he doesn’t deserve him.

 

They’re literally worlds apart.

* * *

Moira sees someone standing beside Oliver.

She has never seen him before, but when she saw how the unknown man embraced Oliver and let him cry on his chest, she has an idea who this might be.

She heard the rumors by the housemaids and guards about Oliver speaking to thin air. Like any rational person, she didn’t believe it at first without seeing for herself. She did, and like any caring and worried mother, suggested that Oliver see a specialist. She understood that it was Oliver’s coping mechanism from his experience at the island.

But she also witnessed once how Oliver inexplicably calmed down from a nightmare without being woken up, with Oliver murmuring _Barry_ in a soft tone.

“Mrs. Queen?” the man called her when he noticed her staring at him.

“You must be Barry,” Moira said, earning her a surprised expression.

“How did you—”

“It doesn’t matter how,” Moira told him kindly. Her gaze flickered to both Oliver and Thea. “Look out for them, will you?”

“I will.”

“Take care of Oliver. He has the tendency to blame himself for every single death of those around him.” Oliver is a martyr that way. “Tell him that I love him and Thea.”

Moira doesn’t have to wait for Barry’s reply as she dissipates.

She knows he will.

 

 

 

 

Between letting Oliver grieve for his mother and continuing his vigilante duties, Barry doesn’t get the chance to properly tell Oliver what is currently happening to him.

It helps that Oliver seems to miss that some parts of Barry is already missing especially at the part of his feet. What Oliver doesn’t know won’t hurt him, Barry thinks.

At least, Barry gets a month of Felicity’s _oh my god, he’s here isn’t he_ and Diggle’s semi-belief that there might be some truth in what Oliver told him before about the ghost Barry. Team Arrow grows closer than ever and with some possible additions to the team. Diggle and his ex-wife-turned-wife-again welcome a baby girl. As for Oliver, Barry keeps dropping hints in regards with Felicity. Barry isn’t oblivious to the infatuation she has for Oliver, and she might be who Oliver needs—somebody who knows of his vigilante business and accepts it and Oliver for how they are.

She’s… well, she’s real and a living person. Not someone who merely has a corporeal form.

Those are what occupy Barry’s mind when Oliver seems to mistake his thoughtful staring at Felicity.

“Do you like her?” Oliver asked.

Who wouldn’t? Barry goes on and on how adorable she is and her blabbering, and maybe in different circumstances, he would have been attracted to her.

Too bad Barry’s current circumstances is entirely different.

He and Oliver are both quiet for several minutes. Barry bites his lower lip, pensive when he whispers:

“I wish… I wish things are different.”

 

Oliver wishes that too.

* * *

It’s too late when Oliver realizes those were Barry’s last words to him.

There’s a cold pit in his stomach when he was hit with the epiphany, and he feels it when he arrives at the Foundry one morning where only silence greeted him.

There’s not a trace of Barry’s presence anywhere.

Oliver has always known this day will come, but he’s not prepared for it to happen today.

He used to be, until Barry became somebody more than just an apparition who followed him around. He treated Barry as another friend, and maybe, just maybe, there could be something more there.

Except they’re not given the chance, are they?

 

 

 

 

“Barry?” Oliver called out during the dead of the night he spent at the Foundry.

There’s no answer.

 

 

 

 

Oliver couldn’t sleep at nights.

Insomnia is normal for him, he insists to Felicity.

“But you’re actually mourning,” Felicity said softly. “Like when you lost your mother.” She knows there’s no recent death in the family or friends, and that’s where she draws a conclusion. “It’s him then.”

Oliver doesn’t answer even as she sits down beside him and advices him of having a closure.

He’s more sentimental after Lian Yu, oddly enough, and he suspects it’s brought by near death experiences and staying away from his family for five years. For someone who survived the island (and outside) on day-to-day basis, he finds it hard to let go easily and cope with his losses the normal way.

Having the closure Felicity is telling him sounds like a final goodbye, and Oliver is struggling to entertain the idea.

 

 

 

 

Oliver is a foolish man to wait for the impossible.

When he recognizes it painstakingly, he gives himself a bit of time to decide.

 

 

 

 

He’s ready when he asks Felicity of a small favor.

“Can you find where Barry—Bartholomew Allen is buried?”

His voice is weak by his standards, but Felicity still regards him with even more respect and acknowledges the braveness he has to ask it of her.

 

 

 

 

He’s absently picking a bouquet to place on Barry’s grave, regretting that he didn’t make time to ask even of the simplest aspects of Barry’s former life, when Felicity’s name appears on the caller ID.

“You won’t believe this, but Barry is not dead, Oliver.”

It’s enough for Oliver to rush back to the headquarters.

 

 

 

 

The same evening, Oliver sneaks to S.T.A.R. Labs, where Barry was said to be transferred from Central City General Hospital on the same evening of his hospitalization to receive a better treatment under the care of Harrison Wells.

Barry still hasn’t wake for more than two years, but he’s breathing in front of Oliver, and it’s the best Oliver could ever hope for.

The high security of the laboratory doesn’t deter Oliver from his visit.

Barry is worth it.

The first thing Oliver does is touch Barry’s hand for real.

His skin is cold and limp, but it only made Olive hold tighter.

“I’ll wait for you.”

* * *

Oliver does wait.

Patience.

He distracts himself though being the Green Arrow, trains those who are aware of the risks and yet remains willing to join his cause.

Sara returns, and Oliver fixes what happened between him and Laurel. All is good, and there’s always the hint of a chance there to pick from where he and Laurel left off.

Though to Oliver, that’s only it. A hint. No flames to rekindle anymore.

What they have right now is what suits them both.

 

 

 

 

Oliver waits.

 

 

 

 

If he can squeeze it in between his schedule, Oliver finds himself at S.T.A.R. Labs, bypassing their security to get at least a glimpse of Barry.

He speaks to him sometimes, because Oliver honestly believes that Barry is listening to him.

Oliver writes on a sticky note by the bedside table, sticking it on the board among the several others that are mostly from Iris.

_Find me when you wake up._

_-Oliver_

 

 

 

 

Within months, his time for Barry might have dwindled down due to the pressure of being asked to run as the mayor, but Barry never leaves his mind.

Occasionally, he gets moments of weakness and doubt whether Barry will even wake up, but the thing is, Oliver is equally stubborn and determined.

He’s not about to give Barry up that easily.

* * *

Oliver is never prepared in the matters that are important.

He wasn’t prepared when Tommy died.

He wasn’t prepared when Moira died.

He wasn’t prepared when Thea left.

He wasn’t prepared when Barry vanished and when he thought it was for good.

 

 

 

 

He most certainly isn’t prepared for the man waiting for him by the hallway.

 

 

 

 

“Hello, Ollie,” Barry greeted him, all beaming like the sun brightening Oliver’s day. “Sorry, it took me long.”

Personally, Oliver doesn’t care how much longer it would take.

But Barry is here now in front of him, in the flesh.

Damn if Oliver is going to wait any longer to grab Barry by the back of his neck and kiss the life out of him.

 

 

 

 

Oliver doesn’t pay any attention to the flashing of cameras that seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

“I’ve wanted to do that for some time now,” Barry said afterwards, grinning impishly, and like Oliver, he doesn’t care if they gained an audience and caused their surroundings to stop short.

Oliver has been wanting to do this too.

“It’s good to have you back, Barry.”

* * *

**_end_ **

**Author's Note:**

> this AU has Barry in coma for more than the canon length too  
> thanks for the read


End file.
